Jim Henson’s The Dark Crystal Author Quest (4 page)

They were—rather, Kiff was—in Hallis. The Gelfling there lived in a ring of caves around a grassy common. Kairn instantly felt nostalgic when he saw Hallis through his father's eyes, but Kiff's fear and resentment quashed Kairn's nostalgia. It seemed that every Gelfling of Hallis was in the common. Kairn scanned the crowd for Soli, his beloved and the daughter of Hallis's matriarch, Saffa. Kiff, however, was not searching for Soli, and so Kairn yielded to his father's vision.

The crowd formed a tight circle around a Gelfling whom Kairn did not know, but his dark-green blouse and well-worn leather pants indicated that he was from the Woodland clan. The Woodland Gelfling fancied themselves great warriors, though none of them could best a member of Kairn's line in a fair fight. Kairn did not recognize him as one of the castle guards, even though he was of the proper age. The crowd swayed as the Gelfling of Hallis jostled each other to see this Woodland visitor.

Soven, Saffa's husband and Kiff's sometime rival, was speaking to the Woodlander. “You have made enough of a commotion in this village with your rumors. Now, from the beginning, tell us your tale. Be concise. Don't prattle on like a Podling or speak in riddles like they say the Mystics do.”

“Thank you, Soven. I am Radix, a Gelfling of the Woodland clan, from the village of Ashton.”

“There's your problem there!” Kiff shouted. The other warriors broke out in laughter. The Gelfling boys didn't understand, so they made a point to laugh the loudest. Kiff had a quiet respect for the Woodland Gelfling who served at the Castle of the Crystal, but they were the exception. He saw all other Woodland Gelfling as cowardly braggarts, and he often made his feelings on the subject known.

Radix smiled at Kiff with excessive courtesy. “As I said, I am Radix, a proud Gelfling of the Woodland clan, and I come here today to speak for the salvation of Gelfling as a species.”

Kiff snickered and smirked at the other warriors. They winked back at him. Their strong arms were crossed.

“I speak not only for the salvation of the Gelfling, but about the fate of Podlings, of the Landstriders, maybe even the fate of all of Thra,” said Radix. “As you all know, several Podlings and Gelfling have disappeared over the past few weeks with no explanation. We Gelfling have all lost our way of life, and we live in dread. Mothers, you no longer let your children play in the fields. Fathers, you hurry back to your homes before the third sun sets, and you won't return to your labor before the first sun rises. The legend of the Hunter is spoken in whispers across all of Thra. Delegations have searched for Aughra with no success. Appeals have been made to the Skeksis with empty replies. Our queen has even considered seeking the assistance of the Mystics.”

Kiff was very tempted to interrupt the stranger, but he strained to preserve his manners.

“Today I tell you that I know why your children cannot play in the fields, why you cannot labor between the third sun's setting and the first sun's rising. None of us is safe, and we are not safe because of the Skeksis. They have done this to us. They
are
doing this to us.”

This earnest declaration terrified the crowd. As fear often does in groups, it manifested itself as fury. The community howled at the stranger:

“Who are you?”

“How should you know?”

“You can't sell that nonsense to Spriton Gelfling! Take a dip in the swamp and see if you can hoodwink some Drenchen Gelfling!”

“You Woodland Gelfling can live your lives in fear! Anyone who starts trouble in our village might as well have spit in the face of Arax himself!”

Kairn could feel his father's conflicting emotions. This was treason, but Radix had a sincerity that could not be dismissed. He might have been misinformed; he might have lost his mind; he might even have enjoyed one too many of the tall flowers that Podlings eat after the harvest; but Kiff had to admit that Radix believed everything he said. Kiff raised his sword, which was far larger than any other Gelfling in the village could have wielded, and quickly hushed the crowd.

“Two weeks ago,” Radix said, “Rian, a Woodland Gelfling and a guard at the Castle of the Crystal for more than ten trines, returned to Ashton. Normally an unmovable warrior of the highest dignity, he was not himself.”

Kiff scoffed audibly. Through the dreamfast, Kairn could hear his father's thoughts: Kiff respected Rian well enough, but hearing him praised so highly, Kiff could think only of how he had upbraided Rian on so many chilly late-night shifts for sneaking off to the pantry when he was supposed to be patrolling the castle's walls.

“Rian's face was scratched with briars,” Radix said. “He had shed his armor in his frantic rush. His shoes were torn, and his eyes were wild. He flew into the home of our matriarch, Elmi, who immediately called together the village's eldest and wisest Gelfling.”

“Wisest Woodland Gelfling? You mean all the ones who can write their names?” an anonymous Gelfling joked. Many laughed, but Soven's glare quickly shamed them into silence.

Radix continued, “The next day, the village gathered to hear Rian speak. I will spare you the horror of his entire tale. In short, one night, while Rian was fulfilling his honorable duty of guarding the Castle and the Skeksis—who have been great patrons to the Woodland clan—he found himself in the laboratory of skekTek, a place Gelfling seldom visited.”

Kiff sneered at this remark. Rian was snooping in a forbidden area—Kiff never would have violated the Skeksis's trust in such a way.

“Rian heard terrible shrieks, and he peered across the laboratory. He saw the frizzy chestnut hair of Podlings rising slightly above the tops of three chairs. Crude straps squeezed the chairs, binding the Podlings in place. Tubes ran from their arms into small vials. SkekTek first appeared deaf to the Podlings' hysterical pleas for mercy and then eventually seemed to delight in them. The far end of the laboratory was open to the Crystal Chamber, where the Crystal was suspended over the Lake of Fire. SkekTek tugged and fought with buttons, levers, chains, and gears that covered an entire wall. Rian puzzled over what they all might do until he saw the Crystal itself shift. As it moved, the Crystal shot out three blinding, precise, pink beams at the Podlings.

“Rian crept across the room. The beams burned into the Podlings, who thrashed and writhed with the pathetic vigor of a dying murina. A purple liquid steadily dripped from the tubes into the vials. At last, skekTek pulled up the levers and the Crystal's beams relented. The Podlings sat motionless. They were dead, Rian thought, but then skekTek released their restraints and they rose. Their eyes were hollow. Their faces were pale. They wheezed when they tried to breathe. Each looked directly at Rian, yet none saw him. Instead they marched robotically through a small gate that skekTek had opened. SkekTek then gathered the vials and put them on a rack with dozens of others, all of different colors.”

The crowd was still. Radix was trembling and appeared close to tears. Kairn felt his father's fear. There was no concealing in dreamfasting.

Kiff broke the silence. “How do we know that this Rian is not a liar?”

“Our matriarch, Elmi, dreamfasted with Rian and confirmed himself that this is true.”

“It's convenient that Rian uncovered this just as the Woodland Gelfling are being expelled from the Castle of the Crystal. You've lost the Skeksis's favor, so now you want to bring the rest of us Gelfling down with you!”

“The Woodland Gelfling were expelled because Rian discovered this truth.”

Kiff swung around to his fellow Spriton Gelfling, turning his back to Radix. His voice wavered: “This stranger has come into our village to make trouble for us. We know the Skeksis well, and no one knows the Skeksis better than me. They would never commit such violence.”

In this dreamfast, Kairn worried that he doubted his father's honesty and that Kiff would notice. However, that is one of the common mistakes of dreamfasting: it is difficult to divine the origins of emotions. Kairn realized that the doubt actually belonged to his father.

“The Skeksis have always been good to us, and—”

“Good to you, maybe!” came a cry from the crowd. It was Babul, the rascal nephew of Bibul, known in Hallis for his love of wine, particularly in large quantities. No one in Hallis had ever spoken like that to Kiff, not even Soven himself.

Kiff continued, “We should throw a stranger like this out of town before he causes us any more trouble, and furthermore—”

“Have you a better explanation for why children from our village have been disappearing then, Kiff?” Dallys the widow asked.

Kiff paused. “I don't, but I will find out. We cannot rush to believe every rumor from every Woodland Gelfling.”

“Every rumor?” Argens, the village's wealthiest Gelfling, asked. “A guard of the castle saw it personally and then dreamfasted with the Woodland matriarch!”

“Again, I don't trust these Woodland Gelfling more than a calm day on the Silver Sea, and I don't see why you should either,” Kiff said. Kairn could feel that his father was trying to convince himself through his emphatic certainty.

“How can we trust you when it comes to the Skeksis? You spend more time at the Castle of the Crystal than you do in Hallis,” Dallys said.

“Perhaps you should retire for a bit, Kiff,” Soven said.

“No one tells me when to go. I am the Imperial Guardian!”

“And maybe your loyalty lies more with your job than with your clan. Here in Hallis, we are Gelfling first, not servants of the Skeksis. We care about protecting the lives of our fellow Gelfling, not the reputations of the Skeksis,” Argens said.

Kiff grabbed the handle of his sword without unsheathing it. “Who do you think you are, you pudgy coward?”

Soven walked toward Kiff. “Kiff, it's time to go.”

Kiff was careful not to show aggression to Soven, but he had no intention of moving. He leaned close to Argens, who feigned confidence. “I'm not going anywhere!” Kiff shouted. His armor rattled as he shook in his hazy anger.

A Gelfling named Meht stepped forward. He kept his hand on the pommel of his sword without drawing it. Besides Kiff, he was Hallis's best warrior, better even than Soven. “You're leaving if I have anything to say about it. This village only needs Gelfling who look out for Gelfling. If you want to defend the Skeksis, I suggest you do so at the castle,” Meht said.

His brother Marn stepped forward, his hand balled tightly around his sword's grip. “I stand with Meht. Kiff, you must leave the village if you will not oppose the Skeksis. Your loyalty lies either with them or with your own people.”

Meht and Marn faced Kiff defiantly. Argens, who had been half-hiding behind Marn, now stepped forward and said, “I agree with these men. You are a Gelfling or you are a mercenary.”

“Mercenary?” Kiff said. “Do not use the terms of war when you know nothing of it.”

“Kiff, you can't fight a whole village. For the love of Arax, please, come with me to discuss this,” Soven said.

“I have nothing to discuss. I will not take up arms against any of you, but as you lack the wisdom to hear me, I will go.” Kiff instantly regretted his decision, but knew he had little choice. He took his hand off his sword and steeled his expression. The crowd parted for him. His leather boots were silent on the grass as he strode between the villagers.

There ended the dreamfast.

Kairn and his father could not break eye contact and did not speak until Kairn was overcome by his anger. “How dare they? You are the pride of Hallis. I will return to the village and strike down each one, beginning with Soven—even if it means forsaking my love for Soli.”

Kiff shook his head. “No, that won't do. You cannot bear arms against another Gelfling from our clan. Even striking down a Woodland Gelfling requires the greatest deliberation.”

“But they shamed our line and dishonored the castle. I have no need to deliberate. But first, I must escort you back to the castle—you cannot waste away in this cavern.”

“No, I can't go back. The Skeksis expelled the Woodland Gelfling—I'd be the only Gelfling there.”

“Yes, but unless the stories are—” Kairn stopped himself. With all his father had suffered for loyalty to the Skeksis and the castle, he could not raise the possibility that Rian had spoken honestly.

“I will not fight against the Skeksis, but they cannot ask me to be the one Gelfling fighting against my entire race,” Kiff said. Kairn noticed that his father spoke slower than he used to.

“So, the Gelfling have decided on war against the Skeksis?” Kairn asked.

“No, not yet. A minstrel passed through this wasteland yesterday. He had just visited Hallis, and though he was too polite to ask my tale, he told me the situation. Queen Silva summoned representatives from our village, maybe from other villages, too. It's all rumors, but something is afoot.”

Kairn stood up and looked down at his father, whose armor hung loose around his thinning frame. “Very well. I will go to Hallis, and I will make our will known to Elmi and Soven.”

Kiff stood up, and Kairn saw that malnutrition and exile could not strip him of his warrior's bearing. “Kairn, you cannot go. It is not safe. They may not have decided their precise course, but they are set against the Skeksis and the castle. You will fare no better than I. Stay here with me or seek safety with a friendly village, but do not sacrifice yourself for a lost cause.”

“Father, I must go. I must try to preserve peace.”

Greg Coles

Rebels of the Dark Crystal

The Unexpected Dreamfast

I still remember the look in his eyes that night; the stunned, hollow look of a Gelfling who had seen something too horrible for words.

He rocked slowly back and forth, shivering despite the heat from the furnace, gazing into the dancing flames. I draped a thick blanket around his shoulders, but he barely seemed to notice. He hadn't said a word since coming in—not even a greeting. He just reached for my shoulder and collapsed onto me. I staggered under his weight and guided him to a three-legged chair. We sat in silence together and listened to the wind that howled through the trees of Shadowwood and shook the walls of my little blacksmith shop.

“Rian,” I said gently. “Rian, what happened?”

He answered with heavy, ragged breaths. I studied him as he studied the fire, watched the yellow and orange flicker in the pupils of his bright blue eyes.

Rian was everything a Gelfling lad was supposed to be. Like me, he grew up on the plains of Skarith, not half a league from the Castle of the Crystal. The Harath clan was proud to call him one of their own; powerfully built and adventurous, he had been hired as a guard by the Skeksis as soon as he was old enough to shoot a bow. Gelfling girls swooned over his strong jaw and deep voice and firm muscles. In their eyes, he was the embodiment of perfection.

But Rian had never cared about perfection. The clearest proof of that was his choice of a best friend: me. I was his opposite, as imperfect as he was perfect. When I was an infant, a Landstrider crushed my right leg, crippling me before I learned to walk. Unable to farm and unable to fight, I was an embarrassment to my parents. As soon as I was old enough they apprenticed me to Kratos, the blacksmith, to learn a trade that even a second-rate, one-legged Gelfling could manage.

Working for Kratos was a kind of banishment from the rest of the Harath clan. The blacksmith shop, because of its noise and heat, was built along the boundary of Shadowwood, far from the Gelfling dwellings on the plains. Aside from the occasional customer, my only company was old Kratos, who didn't talk much and listened even less. When he died suddenly of the coughing sickness, I was left to run the smithy alone.

But even though I lived and worked alone, Rian refused to let me be lonely. From the time we were young, he insisted on dragging me along on his grand adventures: him charging through the forbidden Shadowwood with a stick or a pair of forge tongs as a weapon, me hobbling gamely behind on my crutches. I was always slowing him down, but he never seemed to mind. He knew how to make even a cripple feel like a hero.

As we got older and the pressures of blacksmithing became greater, I learned to live my adventures through Rian. I would make tools and weapons for him free of charge. He would go out and use them to hunt and fight off predators in the forest, then return to the smithy in the evenings and tell stories of his exploits. He was dangerous with almost any weapon, but his weapon of choice was a broadsword that I forged for him on my own anvil.

Rian was known throughout the clan as a brave and experienced warrior; one of their finest. But those who knew him only as a warrior didn't know the same Gelfling that I did. The Rian I knew was peace-loving and jovial, with a quick wit and a smile that could light up his whole triangular face.

On that night, though, he wasn't smiling. That night, the only light on his face was the reflection of the blazing furnace. I threw two more logs into the flames when I saw him shivering—the fire burned so hot that streams of sweat ran down both our faces, and still he shivered.

“Rian,” I said again. “Are you ill? Should I fetch a healer?”

He shook his head. “I'm just cold,” he said quietly. “Cold, and tired.”

“But it's burning up in here,” I protested. I pressed my fingers to his forehead to check his temperature.

As soon as my skin met Rian's, a tug like a lightning bolt jerked through my arm and I felt myself falling. My body stayed completely still, but Rian's memories pulled on my mind, drawing me in like a whirlpool. We were dreamfasting, the Gelfling way of sharing memories by touch. The blacksmith's shop faded away as I let Rian's world consume me.

I was in a cold stone hallway lined with smoky lanterns. My hands held the short spear of a castle guard, and I paced the hallway easily, without crutches. Both my legs were whole and healthy. Rian's body was my body, and I felt myself reliving his actions as his voice echoed in my ears.

Today the Skeksis held council, and I was assigned to stand guard in the secluded wing of the castle that holds skekTek's laboratory. Midway through my shift, I was standing across from the laboratory door when a thin beam of blue light burst through the keyhole, shining so brightly in my face I couldn't ignore it. I heard a click like the sound of a key turning, and suddenly the door swung open. Wondering what strange magic was afoot, I followed the beam of light into skekTek's laboratory and saw what no Gelfling has seen before.

Foul-smelling potions boiled in cauldrons and sat in flasks along the walls. In the middle of the room stood a large desk covered in a rich burgundy cloth. The desk held a stack of yellowed parchments, with ink and a quill beside them. On top of the stack was a sketch of a Gelfling like me, standing inside a circle wearing only a loincloth, his arms and legs outstretched. There were numbers written around the circle, complex calculations and measurements of each limb and joint. I realized that this Gelfling had no name, only numbers as his identity. That thought made me sick to my stomach.

Beside the parchments I saw a small crystal vial, stoppered with a leather peg and full of pale blue liquid. Rose sunlight streamed in from an upper window, striking the vial and shining a slender refracted beam into the hallway. This was the source of the light that had caught my attention, the light that seemed to invite me into skekTek's laboratory as if by magic. When I held my breath, I thought I could hear a faint humming coming from the vial, like music without notes.

As I watched, the sunlight crept away from the vial, hiding it in shadow. But the blue light kept glowing with an incandescence of its own. It drew me in. It was alluring, beautiful, so beautiful it hurt to look, and still I couldn't turn away. I stretched my fingers out and brushed them against the crystal.

That was when I felt it.

Evil.

Death.

Suddenly a scream tore through the dreamfast, filling up my ears, my mouth, every nerve in my body. I couldn't tell if the voice was Rian's or mine. I didn't know if we were screaming in dreamfast or inside the blacksmith's shop. Rian's memory ripped to shreds like cloth. Whatever the source of the horror was, our dreamfast couldn't survive it. I was on the floor of the smithy, panting and tasting dirt. My skin burned from the heat of the furnace, and yet my insides still felt icy. I understood why Rian was shivering.

I got to my feet slowly. The horror clung to my skin like a wet cloak. “What
was
that?”

Rian answered with a violent shudder.

“You need a healer.” I took a coat from the wall and picked up my crutches. “This fire isn't warming you, and I don't know what will. I'm going to find help.”

“It's not safe,” Rian stammered, his eyes wide. “The Hunter . . .”

“What would the Hunter want with me?” I forced a smile. “I'm as skinny as a burbler fin—he wouldn't have anything to eat.”

I was out the door before Rian could see me lose my nerve.

A harsh wind shook the trees. Glowing sarna leaves, plucked off their branches by the storm, lit up the night with faint streaks of green. Goldenbeaks huddled together in their nests, wings wrapped around each other for warmth, whistling harmonies that were swept away by the stormy sky. I tucked my head into the nape of my coat and hurried toward the home of Paryn the herbalist.

The Harath clan had many healers, herbalists, and seers, each with specialties of their own; they often worked together on difficult illnesses. But of all these, Paryn was my favorite. He was a misfit—like me. Tall and pale skinned, he could never have passed as a true Harath. He lived among us, but he was a member of the Vapra clan by birth. Many trine ago, when he lived in the Glade of Gashqa with his clan, his wife, Ani, had been killed and eaten by the Hunter. After the tragedy, everything about Paryn's homeland reminded him of Ani. Heartbroken, he left the Glade and came to Skarith to start a new life with his young daughter, Alethi.

Paryn seemed to understand me as very few in my own clan could. He was patient and thoughtful, virtues that were highly prized among the Vapra but seen as unnecessary luxuries by the pragmatic Harath clan. Paryn knew what it felt like to be politely ignored by his Harath peers and gawked at by little ones who didn't know any better. Whenever the throbbing in my leg became too much to bear, I went to see him for herbs to ease the pain, because I knew I could trust him.

Also, it didn't hurt that his daughter, Alethi, was the most beautiful Gelfling I had ever laid eyes on.

Although the Vapra avoided fighting whenever possible, their women were trained for battle; wings gave them an advantage over male warriors. Alethi had grown up in Skarith with the Harath clan, but she still had the powerful gossamer wings, long white hair, and muscular build of a Vapra warrior. Half the young males of our clan were in love with her, and so was Rian, which meant that I had about as much chance of winning her heart as I did of sprouting a third eyeball. But there was no harm in dreaming.

“Yeekkaa!” The shriek of a whirlijay just behind me set my heart pounding. Suddenly I felt as if I was being watched. “Don't think about the Hunter, don't think about the Hunter,” I whispered to the rhythm of my crutches, thinking about nothing but the Hunter. Every crackling branch was his footstep; every gust of wind was his breath. I moved faster. The woods at night had always been dangerous, but after dreamfasting with Rian, I was more afraid than ever.

The moonlight cast long, heavy shadows on the grass. A second shadow was moving alongside mine. I spun around. Only trees stared back at me; the only sound I heard was the commotion of the storm. But when I turned and kept walking, the shadow continued alongside me. Something was following me, something alive. I reached for the hammer hanging from my belt. The Hunter wouldn't take me without a fight.

WHOOMP.
A red-feathered ball hit me in the chest, knocking me flat on my back. I closed my eyes as the world spun around me.

“Kaelan!” called a voice, louder than the storming winds. “Kaelan, are you all right? Frolie, I told you to be careful.”

The feathered ball on my chest rolled up to my chin and licked my face. Dazed, I opened my eyes to see a female Gelfling bent over me like something out of a dream. She held a bow in one hand and laid her other hand on my heart to feel it beating. “Are you hurt?” she asked. “For shame, Frolie.”

A plump furry head peeked out from between the red feathers, licked me between the eyes, and whistled apologetically.

“Alethi,” I gasped. “What are you doing out here?”

“I should ask you the same thing.” Alethi clicked her tongue at me. “A bit bruised, I think, but you'll be all right. Up you come now.” She grabbed me by the elbows and lifted me. Frolie rolled down my chest, spread his wings, and soared away. A second later he was back, perched on Alethi's shoulder and crooning softly.

It wasn't until I was on my feet again, until Alethi's hands were no longer touching me, that I remembered my urgent mission. “We need to find your father. Something horrible happened to Rian, and he can't stop shivering.”

“Let me see him,” she said. “I might be able to help.”

“But he needs a healer,” I protested.

Her eyes flashed with anger. “Don't you think I've learned anything from my father? Rian might not have much time. Besides, I can't carry you and my father both.”

“Carry us?”

Alethi's gossamer wings spread from behind her back and flapped in the wind. “Just hang on to your crutches,” she said, then picked me up by the armpits and launched into the air.

The sensation of flying was new to me. Among the Harath, winged females were forbidden from carrying males except in extreme danger. I found the feeling at once wonderful and terrifying. Stormy wind pummeled me from every side, and I felt Alethi's grip on me tighten. My stomach sank to my knees every time I looked down, but I couldn't stop looking. The tops of trees passed underneath us like grassy hills. Everything looked different from above. I wondered if birds could understand things we dirt-bound creatures never would.

Soon I saw the smithy pouring its gray smoke into the night. A moment later we alighted on my front lawn. I took a shaky step and pitched wildly forward, barely catching my balance.

“I'm sorry,” said Alethi, reaching out to steady me. “I should have warned you. Flying can take some getting used to.”

I shook my head to clear it and kept walking. “I'll be fine. It's Rian I'm worried about.”

“What happened to him?” she asked as we hurried inside.

I looked to Rian to help me explain, but his eyes were tightly closed now, and his breathing even. He had fallen asleep. “I—I'm not sure. He came in shivering, he could barely speak, and he said he was cold, so I built up the fire . . .”

I told her the story of the dreamfast, skekTek's laboratory, and the blue vial. While I blathered, she turned her attention to Rian, pushing back her cloak to bare strong, slender arms. She laid her hands on Rian's chest and began to hum as her three fingers traced slow circles over his tunic. She pressed her lips tight and held one ear forward, like someone listening for a whisper.

As I watched her, I felt a sudden twinge of jealousy that it was Rian who was ill, Rian who was being tended to, instead of me.